


I Don’t Know Why You Say Goodbye (I Say Hello)

by impossiblesongs



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, future doctor with Ten's face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblesongs/pseuds/impossiblesongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Look at me, River.” He moves to close the distance so that there leaves no space between them. His face is inches away from hers. “Do I look anywhere near my early 900s to you?”</i> – The Doctor goes to pay his respects to the Ponds in New York. He runs into River. </p>
<p>[Future!Doctor(wearing 10s face)/Post-Manhattan River, SPOILERS FOR 50TH SPECIAL ‘THE DAY OF THE DOCTOR’]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don’t Know Why You Say Goodbye (I Say Hello)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.  
> AN: Okay, I have no idea if this will work at all but here it goes. This stems from the revelation in the 50th special about the Doctor possibly regenerating into past faces in his future. See: **[(X)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cn9yJrrm2tk) **  
>  AN2: Title from The Beatles song.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

_The Doctor_ : I never forget a face.

_The Curator_ : I know you don't. And in years to come, you might find yourself revisiting a few. But just the old favorites, eh?

 

-          The Day Of The Doctor

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

“They’re lovely.” Spoke a soft, frail voice.

 

The Doctor looked down at the bouquet of flowers he’d kind of-sort of-maybe nicked form the Shakespeare Gardens when he’d strolled past Central Park and then to the person who’d commented on them. It was an old lady sitting on a bench. She had pigeon food in a small bag beside her.

 

“Paying my respects to some friends.” He replied. “They’re buried at the graveyard just down there.”

 

The old woman nodded, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

The Doctor thanked her and inquired for her name. They spoke for a few minutes before he pardoned himself to do as he came. To lay the flowers on the gravestone of Rory and Amelia Williams.

 

He’d been so many different men since that horrible day in Manhattan except the face that popped up this recent regeneration wasn’t a new one. Not by a long shot. _Just the old favorites._ The Curator in the gallery said to his Eleventh self once, a long way back, and the old man wasn’t wrong.

 

The face he wore now was that of his Tenth. Actually, it was his Tenth’s body more than regeneration since he’d gone past his Tenth life when this face came along. He’d technically hopped onto more than one life with this face. One was with help from an extra hand he’d lost in battle one Christmas Invasion or so ago. It’s hard to keep count of really. Regenerations. He gets a headache just thinking about them.

 

It was such an odd experience, this most recent regeneration. The moment he’d finished with the whole process he’d recognized himself almost immediately. It was the teeth that gave it away. He could hardly believe it when he looked in the mirror again. He didn’t even have to look for anything to wear this time since his past self’s clothes were still in the Tardis. He’d indeed missed his blue pinstripe suit. And his coat. And the sandshoes. And _the hair_ , he’d really missed the hair.

 

His companions came and went, that didn’t change, but something in him did. This time around he was bolder and braver. He ran away less and faced more. With this face he set out to actually be there for his all of his friends as they were there for him in his past lives. He visited those still alive as much as he could and not simply when they needed him, but because they mattered and they deserved it. When their time came, as it did for humans, he was now a man strong enough to be there to hold their hand and say goodbyes. _I can be brave for you,_ he told Amelia Pond once. He now knew how true it had come to be.   

 

Even though Manhattan had happened several lifetimes ago the face he’s wearing now is the only one who’s been to visit them since then. They say time heals all wounds and perhaps they’re right because it’s certainly gotten easier to just drop by and pay his respects. Of course, he’s long come to find it’s always easier with a different face.

 

It had taken plenty of time to get to this point and not just because it hurt too much but also because of the impossibility of landing the Tardis anywhere near New York. That was the tricky bit. What it boiled down to was timing and not the timey-wimey kind he so beloved. No, times like this, he had to do something completely terrifying. Times like these…. he had to take public transport.

 

He really didn’t want to. For one, it was embarrassing. Two, one reason was enough. He was the Doctor and he’d long stopped counting his age after his Eighteenth regeneration (and that was _ages_ ago, he could even name it prehistoric). He was from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. The Oncoming Storm. So public transport? He wasn’t looking forward to that one bit. Still, he’d grit his teeth, swallowed his pride and done it.

 

Today marks his eleventh visit to New York to lay flower on Amy and Rory’s grave. He doesn’t fail to notice the irony in that. Irony though is nothing compared to the shock of what he finds waiting at the gravestone of his long lost companions. He can’t believe his eyes. He’s more annoyed than angry though.

 

“Seriously?!” He says aloud as he marches up to the gravestone. “You said you had errands to run!”

 

River Song startles at his voice. She’s got her blaster aimed at him in less than a second.

 

“Woah, woah.” He waves both hands up in surrender, the hand holding the flowers loses some petals from the abruptness of his motion. “I’m cross but we don’t want to go repeating incidents like last week, do we?”

 

River watched him skeptically and she did not lower her gun. He then took notice of her eyes, they were slightly puffy and red. She’d been crying. She’d… _oh_.

 

“You’re young.” He said, a blinding smile overtook his face. “ _Look_ at you, oh, you are an absolute toddler, aren’t you?”

 

He tried to lean in closer to study his very young wife but he found the gun pointed straight at his forehead now.

 

“Okay, right, sorry.” He backed away slowly. “My bad, I read things wrong. River,” He could see her falter at the sound of her name and doubt made a crease appear at her brow, “I miscalculated. Please put the gun down now.”

 

“Do I know you?” She asked, shaking slightly.

 

The Doctor swallowed, “One would say, intimately.”

 

River blinked twice and lowered her gun immediately. “Oh, god.”

 

The Doctor shrugged, “Not my official name, no, but I’ve been accused once or twice. Try again.”

 

“Doctor!” She named, disbelief laced at the seams.

 

“That’s the one.” He nodded happily. “Gold star for you, Professor. You are one now aren’t you? I haven’t given away a plot development have I?”

 

The Doctor waited for an answer but River only stared.

 

“But you…” River finally said only to find herself speechless for another while longer. She finally decided on, “You’re face.”

 

“Oh, this old thing,” He gave one cheek a light pat, “found it while I did some dusting.”

 

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t recognize you.” River admitted. “Have we done Asgard?”

 

The Doctor nodded. He could see her face change, she was putting her walls up. _She thinks I’m the younger one,_ he realized, _that I don’t know who she is._

 

He decided to find out where exactly she was. “How many adventures have we done? With this face, I mean?”

 

River had put her gun away and was looking anywhere but at him. “Just Asgard, actually. This will be our second run in, on my side anyway.”

 

“Oh,” He took note of her hair. It was in a ponytail. River didn’t do that too often outside life and death situations. The only time he remembers her putting her hair up was….

 

He swallows, “How long ago was Manhattan for you?”

 

River looks to him in utter surprise. He’s going to need to be careful now. If she’s just met him at Asgard that means the Library is next for her.

 

“How do you know about that?” She demands.

 

“Look at me, River.” He moves to close the distance so that there leaves no space between them. His face is inches away from hers. “Do I look anywhere near my early 900s to you?”

 

River looks deep into his eyes. A tiny breath escapes her and she shakes her head. “But how?”

 

“Without giving too many spoilers away, it seems I’m revisiting a few old favorites.” He told her.

 

She looked away quickly as if he’d struck her.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

 

“Nothing.” She smiled but he knew her well enough to see it wasn’t a real one. “It’s a lovely face, dear.”

 

“No, no, no. I know you, River Song. So very long now.” He reaches out with a hand and cups her chin, turning her face towards him. He leans in and examines her every feature, every line. Her eyes are telling and after so many years he knows exactly how to read them. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.” He smiles. “I say old favorites with this face and you doubt my affections for the one _you_ love most.”

 

“Doctor, stop it.” River moved away from him. She opts to stare at her parent’s gravestone.

 

“Tell me,” He keeps on, “What makes you think this will be my last old favorite?”

 

River doesn’t answer. The Doctor moves forward and places the flowers he’d picked (nicked) on the gravestone.

 

“What makes you think the face that they loved isn’t a definite favorite?” He posed to her. “What could ever make you think that, Missus Doctor.”

 

River winced. “That sounds so rubbish.”

 

“Oi.” He frowned.

 

“Mister Song sounds better.” River said.

 

He shook his head, “That’s not how it works.”

 

“Oh, yes it is.” She bumped into his shoulder lightly, the smallest of smiles threatening to appear on her beautiful face.

 

“How long has it been, River?” He asked again. “Honestly.”

 

His wife took a deep shuddering breath before answering.

 

“It’s been eight months since Manhattan happened for me.”

 

He doesn’t even have to think about it twice. He pulls River to him and envelops her in his arms. She stand firm in his hold at first before she softens in his arms and returns his affections. She feels so lovely against him again.

 

“Oh, River.” He sighs into her hair. “My dear Pond. I’m so sorry. I know how he was, how I was, back then and I’m sorry. I get better. For you. For me. For both of us. I promise you that.”

 

River clutches at him tighter. “Thank you.”

 

The Doctor pulls back and looks at her. “For what?”

 

River smiles, her eyes turned watery again with fresh tears, “For giving me this face, like this.”

 

“I can tell you it wasn’t planned.” He admits.

 

“It’ll help.” River tucks her face back into the crook of his neck. “For next time.”

 

He tries to contain the shiver that goes through his body at the remembrance of what next time would be for her with this face. The Library.

 

 “Doctor?”

 

“Hmm.” He hums.

 

“Why were you so cross with me when you got here?” River inquires.

 

“Why?” He repeats her question and thinks it over.

 

He can’t very well tell her that her future-self left him to do public transport all on his lonesome this time around, saying she had to go take care of some business at the London gallery. He’d have to explain the whole retiring from time-travelling, she’d not like that. Not this young anyway. That would also mean telling her what awaits in her future and then what comes after. He’d have to spill the great news that her stay in the Library isn’t permanent and that he does in fact get her out. There’s no way he’s letting her know that big surprise. He decides to go with the most proper response.

 

“Spoilers.” He says.

 

River snorts, “I hate you.”

 

The Doctor smiled fondly. “Oh, no, you really don’t. Especially not with this face, _everybody_ loves this face. Honestly, River. It's a bit ridiculous.”

 

River pulled back to look at him properly. She ran her fingertips from his cheekbone all the way to his jaw.

 

“It’ll do.” She said, smiling openly now. The Doctor reluctantly looked away from River and down to the gravestone just a few feet away.

 

_In loving memory_

_Rory Arthur Williams_

_Aged 82_

_And his loving wife_

_Amelia Williams_

_Aged 87_

“That it will.” He agrees. “For now anyway.”


End file.
